


Fat Agents of SHIELD: Jemma and the Monolith

by dmarsh14



Category: MarvelWGAU
Genre: Inflation, Other, Weightgain, bellyinflation, bodyinflation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 15:52:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12685023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dmarsh14/pseuds/dmarsh14
Summary: After the team heads to Japan (Fat Agents of SHIELD), Simmons decides she’s had enough and has it out with the fragment of the Monolith that fused with her.





	Fat Agents of SHIELD: Jemma and the Monolith

     After the team left for Japan, and Simmons went on with her tasks and experiments, she began to suspect that her situation was deteriorating.  
     She noticed she was eating more often, every meal packing her belly to its absolute limits. She was trying not to, but she would get hungry, it would build until she had to eat something, and then, once food was in front of her, it seemed that she went into autopilot, her mind drifting into her science experiments, or the missions they had done, or even pop culture drivel, while her hands and mouth kept feeding until all the food was gone, packed tightly into her now-full stomach. And it got worse, and worse. As her self-stuffing sessions went on, and on, she began to notice that during the stuffing sessions (formerly called “meals”), she’d get up and get even more food from fridge, pantry, and anywhere she could, and eat even more.  
     By the time she was able to stop eating this last time, there was not a scrap of food left in her quarters. She’d stuffed the whole of her pantry, and refrigerator, into her now-painfully packed stomach.  
     Gingerly, afraid what might happen, she pressed on her belly, long since popped out of her blouse, with all the buttons burst off and scattered over the floor. Just touching the massive bloated ball of her overstuffed belly, Jemma winced at the twinge of pain. She couldn’t press inward at all; the skin of her midsection was tight and firm. Her stomach was filled to its absolute limit; she didn’t think she could fit a single bite more--no, even a single crumb, into it. She struggled to get out of the chair, but her gargantuan rounded belly was too heavy, and swollen too fat, for her to get up.  
     Sighing, she settled in to wait for any kind of digestion to empty her mammoth belly, enough for her to get up, and started to grumble at this insane stuffing she was forced into. She stopped quickly, afraid of what could happen if that damned Monolith ‘heard’ her, then realized it probably already had, if it could understand speech. It was in her head, after all. So she went ahead. “What is the matter with you!?” She yelled at her own belly, as a focus for herself. “I can’t keep on like this! I’ll be completely immobile from fat soon, and then where will you be? If I can’t move, I can’t get food! What’ll you do then, eh? Then you’ll be stuck, won’t you?” She groaned and dropped her head forward. “Ugh. What am I doing? I’m arguing with my stomach.” Suddenly she realized that her belly was so enormous that she could rest her head on it comfortably.  
     She sensed a feeling, regret? apology? from the Monolith inside her. “Okay, fine,” she muttered, “I realize you need the energy. Just try and slow down.”  
     She grimaced. Fine, the thing seemed to understand what was wrong, but would that last the next time it got hungry? Sighing, she realized she had no way of knowing. But somehow she doubted it.  
     There was no way to keep her thoughts secret from the blasted thing, so she didn’t even try. She wondered was there anyway to stop herself from endless stuffing whenever the bloody thing in her body wanted to eat next?  
     She’d need help, she decided. Get Coulson, or Fitz, to restrain her so she wouldn’t feed.  
     Now, she felt, not anger, petulance, maybe? from them damnable thing inside her. Finally, she had enough. “No,” she said aloud, firmly. “Not this time. I’m done with this.”  
     Confusion, now. Could that thing not understand what bothered her? “Look,” said Jemma, still feeling faintly silly talking to her own body. But it wasn’t just her body, she knew. This was the most progress she’d had dealing with that damned thing. “I know it’s not such a big deal being fat anymore,” she went on. “But it’s not so easy getting over my whole childhood. I was always told, over and over, stay healthy, don’t eat too much, keep your weight healthy.” She shrugged, remembering her parents. “Well, at least they said healthy, not just skinny. But it’s still hard getting over that, no matter what the world says now. And I need to stay mobile, for my work and for our fieldwork.”  
     She sighed. “You’re not human, maybe not even alive, or aware. What would you know about it?”  
     Nothing from the Monolith. Jemma was confused; she had been getting used to its flashes of emotion, and now nothing.  
     Minutes passed, and she became aware of some kind of feeling, growing slowly and gradually. Comprehension? She thought it was; now a flash of eagerness and, what, glee? No, more like hope? What was it hoping for?  
     Suddenly, her belly shrank down to (her new) normal. Her jaw dropped in shock, then she yelled, “you could have sped up digestion any time? Why the bloody hell didn’t you do that before?!”  
     Of course, it didn’t respond. Instead Jemma felt a wave of tired, just enough to realize what it was, then it was gone. “You want me to get into bed? Why?” Of course, it gave no concrete answer, just another flash of tired, to confirm that’s what it wanted.  
     Shaking her head, she shrugged out of her ruined blouse then slid down her skirt and stepped out of it, heading for her bed. A new feeling, a sense of discomfort around her underclothes, hit her next. “What in the hell? Why do I have to be nude?” She started to get in bed, still in her bra and panties, but the discomfort became worse, growing unbearable. “Ugh,” she groaned, then nearly spat “Fine!” at the thing inside her as she stripped off the last clothes, laying down on her bed.  
     Lying unmoving on top of the covers, her arms crossed, resting on her belly-paunch just under her no-longer-so-small breasts, she growled, “well? What are you getting at?”  
     A quick flash of expectation, then warmth spread over her whole body (it was quite pleasant actually), then settled in her bosom.  
     Immediately, she felt her breasts swell. She nearly groaned again, but this time, it felt... good. She wasn’t sure why it how, but the expansion, going much slower than that first insane time, but steady, unceasing, brought her pleasure. She slid her hands over the skin of her breasts, impossibly growing firm and round as they inflated. Squeezing gently, she felt them not pliable and filled with air, as she expected from the firm roundness, but soft and heavy with proper fatty tissue. As her fingers brushed her nipples, she did moan, but in pleasure, not vexation. As they hardened, Jemma pinched each one, squeezing tightly then releasing to let the blood rush back in, bringing sharp pleasure with it. And still the pleasurable warmth pervaded her whole bust, steadily growing ever larger and heavier. Now they actually covered her upper arms, spreading out over the bed. Straining, Jemma reached down and found their bottom curve reaching her navel, and still blowing up. Their upper curve was nearing her face, piling up and starting to block her view of half the ceiling. Her arms were pinned down at her sides, but she didn’t need to rub and stroke her breast-flesh any longer to get the pleasure. Just the tissues inside rearranging as they kept ballooning and falling, pulled by gravity, was enough to quicken her breath and draw more moans from her.  
     Even as the warmth faded from her now-gargantuan bosom, it moved to her hips and bottom, and they too began to inflate. Her hands, already pinned right there, began rubbing her spreading hips even as her butt rose up, pushing her pelvis up as it too inflated. Between the warmth still pervading her body, the the expansion of tissues getting thicker, rounder, full and swollen pushing her inner folds together, Jemma felt her excitement mount, quickly nearing an explosive finish.  
     Some part of her mind noted distantly that by now, she looked nearly as distorted as that first massive inflation, nearly a bloated, overfilled blow-up doll. But this time, she wasn’t bloated with air, all this expanse was her own fat. Even that thought brought her pleasure nearly as immense as her own body. Rubbing what little she could reach, she thought her hips and bottom must be five or six times their (new) usual girth, and she could see her bosom was far larger than that. And more came. Even as her hips were spreading, her bosom hadn’t stopped. Now reaching off her body completely and dipping to touch the bed itself, it kept widening, and the pleasure kept growing.  
     Now, finally (why did she think that?) her belly grew again. Quickly, as if to catch up with the rest of her, it blew up, pushing her mammoth breasts even more into her own face and, lower down, billowing out over her already-pinned arms, restraining them further. Surprising herself, Jemma only felt better and more pleasure at being restrained by her own body’s spread. It was as if, with movement impossible, and her weight spiraling ever higher through no action of her own, let her just feel, and enjoy, the results.  
     Still she grew fatter, now all over her body at once, and still the pleasure swelled apace. Before long, Jemma could see her bloating belly past her still-inflating bosom, and as more tissue formed, the warmth increased with it. The pressure on her erogenous tissues grew, both from the continuing expansion of those tissues and from her belly, truly vast now, pressing down from above, heavy and getting heavier yet.  
     She felt again her body approaching an explosive climax as it fattened still more. Just as she felt it building, and felt her body growing larger and fatter than ever, fatter than she’d dreamed possible, the pressure maddeningly stopped. It didn’t abate, but she hovered near-but not at-the climax she felt, moments away. Crying aloud in frustration, she got a clear flash of smug expectation. A “you haven’t seen anything yet” sort of feeling, and the pounds upon pounds of new fatness (could it actually be a ton? she wondered, surprising herself again by actually hoping that it was) suddenly changed into gas. Instantly her body blew outward to near-perfect roundness and, this time she rise from the bed, buoyant as the new gas pressure pushed ever tighter on every erogenous zone she had, all at once. Just as her light balloon body became spherical and bounced against the ceiling, Jemma screamed loud and long in the throes of the greatest climax she had ever had, or even dreamed of.  
     Minutes later, still lost in the explosion of pleasure, her body drifted back to the bed, still rounded out; the gas was changing to return her to the surface of the bed.  
     Touching down, all the gas suddenly snapped back to solid fat, splatting her body down across the bed, and spilling off the sides, nearly to the floor. The shift in the pressure, now from spreading fatty tissue rather than gas expansion, shot her into an even stronger climax, and her mind shut down. All she felt, all she knew was pleasure, inside and out.  
     The fat flipped back to gas, but she stayed in the bed. Back and forth, her fatty tissue turned to spherical balloon and returned to dropping flab. Each switch began yet more climax, one after the other so fast they blended into one long breathless orgasm. Her voice hoarse, her breath coming in gasps, Jemma couldn’t take much more. Just as she reached the point of blacking out, her body quickly, but not too quickly, compressed back to her now-normal 270 pounds or so.  
     She regained mobility as both her belly and bosom reduced off of her arms and legs, and her limbs themselves shrank enough to move, but the endless, mindless pleasure of the last (how long had it gone on?) left her exhausted. She lay still, sprawled across her bed, now quite wet from both her climax and just from the sweat of her body’s exertions.  
     Panting, she murmured, “all right, I see. That was incredible. Just leave me some time to do my work, and mobility, and you can have whatever you want to eat. As long as you do that to me from time to time.”  
     The last thing she felt as she drifted to an exhausted sleep, was thanks and happiness. Not smug, not glee at getting its way, real joy at pleasuring her as it did. As Jemma fell into sleep, she gently rubbed her soft flabby belly, where she thought of the Monolith residing, cooing inanities to it. She smiled slightly, now actively looking forward to the two of them adding even more flesh to her belly. And the rest of her body, too.


End file.
